


The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

by romanitas



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-04 16:17:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5340467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanitas/pseuds/romanitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Christmas/Holiday themed oneshots and aus, tis the season!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> original prompt on tumblr: “we’re co workers who hate each other but you had too much to drink at the staff christmas party and admitted your love for me i don’t know how to act around you now” percabeth for the christmas au?

Since the very first day he started working at the environmental nonprofit, Annabeth gave him – shit, for lack of better word. Hazel reassured him it was standard Annabeth, but she wasn’t actually  _mean._ Percy would beg to differ, because it feels like the only mode she ever has turned on around him is Haughty with a side of Judgmental. Hazel also assures him it’s a defense mechanism, but honestly all it does is kick in Percy’s own defense mechanisms. He doesn’t let her walk all over him, and she moves up from quiet quips into goading him on. Their arguments have become infamous over the months, but underneath all that, he can’t imagine it’s  _hate_. She did invite him to her birthday dinner, alongside most of their other coworkers, and even though they got into a spat over the safest way to drive in the snow in the middle of the summer, she was smiling at the end so, like, that can’t be hate.

They’re friends, probably, underneath all the squabbling and scowling and paper airplane battles with one-word insults scrawled inside the aviary. That’s what he’s working towards. He does not think about how pretty she looks when she’s knee-deep in a project, determination on her face like war paint.

Percy doesn’t drink. He never has, never wanted to, probably never will. He carries around a small untouched glass of wine at the holiday office party not because he’s going to drink it so much as he doesn’t want to deal with people asking him if he wants a drink. The whole party starts off with he and Annabeth arguing over the secularization of Christmas, which honestly, it sounds like they’re both on the same side here in thinking the “war on Christmas” stuff is bullshit, but they’re arguing the same points back and forth anyway, like one of them has better backup than the other towards the same win.

“Happy  _Holidays_ ,” she grunts at him later, pointing at his chest after she storms over in her Hanukkah sweater.

“Did I know you were Jewish?” he asks.

“I’m not! I’m not anything. But I knew there’d be too many Santa hats,” she gestures at his sweater, an apparent criminal penguin with a Santa hat, “and I wanted to balance it out.”

“Okay,” he says, because it’s a great idea. Her roommate and party-plus-one Rachel is also wearing a Hanukkah sweater, but they’ve talked before, and he  _knows_  Rachel is actually Jewish. Or lapsed, or – something. But it’s a holiday party, not a Christmas party, so he’s all about sweater variety.

Percy doesn’t drink, but it’s clear Annabeth has edged a little passed tipsy. She isn’t drunk, but her inhibitions are a lot lower than he’s used to. She’s definitely way more in his bubble than normal, and he kind of wants to just settle her in a chair and give her a blanket.

“I’m not a jerk,” she insists.

“Sometimes you are,” he says, because, well, she’s definitely hurt his feelings from time to time, though he’s sure he’s done the same in reverse. The downside to defense mechanisms.

Instead of arguing like he expects her to, Annabeth frowns. She frowns and she lets go of his arm, looking very mute for the festivities. “I don’t – it just happens sometimes, okay?”

“You don’t  _mean_  to be mean?”

She huffs. Honest to god  _huffs._  “I don’t know what else to do sometimes! I like you.”

If this were a cartoon, now would be the time for a record scratch. “What?”

“I  _like_  you,” she insists, getting that grim determined look on her face like she’s about to go save some otters. “I like  _arguing_  with you. It’s fun.”

He laughs. Not out of jest, just – this is great. He likes arguing with her too, though he’s not sure when it crossed the line from annoying into fun. Maybe his friendship goals were already on point. “It is pretty fun, huh?”

Her ears go red, and she steals his glass of wine. “I like  _you_ ,” she mutters, with all the hushed tones of a long seated confession. “A lot.”

“Uhhh…”

“Don’t tell anyone,” she orders, taking a sip from his glass, and then she hands it back to him. “Especially not Rachel. I thought she liked you too, so I didn’t want to say anything, but she doesn’t, so it’s okay.”

He can feel his entire face going red, because this isn’t just – it isn’t Annabeth saying she likes him, as a person. This is Annabeth telling him, hiding her smile and with strawberry ears, that she has genuine feelings for him and – yeah, okay, he doesn’t really know how to deal with this.

“I should go find her,” she says, suddenly looking awkward. Which is saying something, because not once in his life has Percy Jackson ever seen Annabeth Chase look  _awkward._  She punches him lightly in the arm for good measure, then disappears into the party.

He finds Hazel and spends the rest of the evening with her; it isn’t a hardship. He likes Hazel a lot, they get along well, and it isn’t out of the ordinary to hang out with her. It isn’t avoidance. This was his plan to begin with, because he thinks of Hazel as something like an office bestie, and she isn’t afraid to play pin the tentacle on the boxing day octopus with him.

Come Monday, however, Percy would not mind hiding under Hazel’s desk. Not even his own, hers. He is absolutely terrified of talking to Annabeth again. Annabeth’s memory is the best in the office, and his luck doesn’t work in a way that would allow her to forget their confrontation. He catches sight of her coming in and hones his attention on the computer screen; it hasn’t even turned on all the way yet, but he doesn’t realize it in his attempts to completely avoid looking Annabeth in the eye.

It’s a mission he carries out for the rest of the day. He spots her walking towards him and immediately swerves towards Hazel’s desk. She looks at him like he’s being an idiot, and he probably is, especially because Annabeth rushes by with more stomp to her step than usual, clearly irritated. But he just – he doesn’t know what to say to her. He spent the whole weekend trying to work out the appropriate reaction, but he can’t, because he can’t figure out how he even feels about it. He’s still coming to terms with the fact that she doesn’t actively hate him. He was so prepared to be her friend, but apparently that’s not all she wants, and it isn’t a  _bad_  thing, but it’s definitely a confusing thing.

Feelings are the worst.

Percy pretty much bails from the office as soon as the clock strikes the appropriate half hour. He takes the long way home and gets lost in the holiday décor as he just – thinks about Annabeth. He thinks about her a lot and doesn’t get home until after dark.

The next day, he’s sort of planning on a repeat. It’s not that he’s embarrassed, or even that he doesn’t feel the same (because he’s starting to think the whole “I like you” thing is a lot more mutual than he realized). But arguing is the easiest way to communicate with Annabeth, and he’s at a total loss otherwise. How do you just walk up to someone like nothing’s changed after they tell you their feelings might not be so platonic? He was just beginning to accept that she might not hate him. That seemed like a good first step. Apparently Annabeth decided to take an elevator.

His plan of avoidance doesn’t work a second full day. Annabeth tracks him down at lunch and quite literally corners him in the break room.

“You don’t have to avoid me,” she says. No formalities, she just immediately launches into it. It’s so  _Annabeth_  that he just starts smiling, which only serves to irritate her. “You don’t have to be a jerk about it either!”

“Sorry –”

“Look, I know what I said to you was – inappropriate. If I’ve put you in a position that makes you uncomfortable, I apologize. I can be professional about it, but I’m not so sure  _you_  can.”

And that’s it. It’s such a ridiculous trigger, but this is the moment where Percy realizes he might be a little in love with her too. His grin turns goofy, and it infuriates her more. He really needs to work on that (or maybe not, because it’s on par with arguing for fun).

“Stop being such an  _ass_  -”

He grabs her hand. She makes to jerk it away, but he holds on a little tighter. “I’m sorry, for being weird. I wasn’t – I didn’t really know how to react, you know?”

“Clearly,” she snaps, yanking her hand free.

“No! No.” He rubs the back of his neck. He tries to think about what to say even more now, but given he’s been struggling with that part, he decides it might be better to just open his mouth and let the words fall out. “I like you too.”

“What?” She looks surprised. It’s a good look, and he’s unbelievably pleased with himself for drawing it out of her.

“I mean, I definitely thought you hated me for a while, but Hazel always insisted you didn’t, and honestly arguing with you is one of the highlights of the job, maybe after saving the seals.” A beat. “And the penguins. It’s really hard to top the penguins. But you might.”

Her cheeks tint red, and she looks overwhelmed for a second. Then she punches his arm again, and he flinches.

“Ow!”

“Idiot,” she hisses, then she uses the same hand to grab his shirt and pull him closer, kissing him softly. He’s too stunned to react, so she pulls away, but then it occurs to him that he kind of really wants to keep kissing her, so he grabs her by the shoulders and kisses her himself. It’s still gentle, though not as tentative, and when she presses back against him, it only cements it being the right move.

By the time she pulls back, her lips are swollen and her face is flushed, but she’s smiling, and it’s a better smile than any one of her cocky smirks. She looks  _happy_.

“Happy Holidays?” he offers, for lack of anything else. There are lights twinkling in the window.

“Consider it the first day of Christmas,” she smirks, kissing him once more, briefly.

“Pretty sure it’s closer to the first day of Hanukkah.”

Their first argument post kissing turns out to conclude with _more_ kissing, so Percy’s pretty good with the potential outcome for the whole holiday season no matter what’s being celebrated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this au: “hi we’re neighbours and omg are you alright i could smell cooking burning - whoaaa now that’s just embarrassing? step aside i’ll handle this”

Percy knows his neighbor lives alone. At least, he’s 90% sure she does. He’s never seen anyone else around consistently enough to warrant roommate status, and considering how much he and Grover hang out, he thinks he can recognize roommate status when he sees it. She’s pretty and blonde and they smile politely at each other whenever they pass in the hallway, and he wants to be her friend. Grover suggests they just draw her in to their next snowball fight, and – well, okay, Percy doesn’t really see a bad side to this. Who doesn’t love a snowball fight?

He’s alone, the day before Christmas Eve. Grover’s gone out to the Island to meet up with his family and girlfriend for the holidays, and Percy’s mom is only a subway stop away, so his holiday plans are much easier to reach. His mouth is already watering at the dinner she’s planning, when he notices there’s a particular smell, and it isn’t lingering gingerbread from the houses he and Grover made the other day.

It’s smoke. Or something burning.

Percy is a firefighter, so his reaction is pretty instant. He checks his own apartment, finds it clean, then steps outside into the hall. There aren’t any alarms blaring, but it does make it obvious where the smell is coming from – the blonde girl’s apartment. He bangs on the door impatiently, throwing nervousness or courtesy out the window.

It takes longer than he’s comfortable with, but she finally opens the door. There’s batter and grease on her face, and one hand is still wearing an oven mitt. “Can I help you?” she says. And she then coughs, because the open door allows the light haze of smoke to filter out into the hallway.

“I’m Percy, next door, I thought I smelled something burning, are you okay?”

It’s a lot for one sentence, but he’s very concerned. As concerned as she is confused. But he thinks her practicality wins out. “The firefighter, right?”

He nods, trying to peer inside. If it was an emergency, she’d look a lot more urgent, but he’s still worried. Loss of food can be a different kind of emergency too. He’ll notice she noticed he was a firefighter later.

“Nothing is on fire. Nothing,” she says gravely, like it’s a warning. “But – it’s kind of smoky. Do you – what’s the best way to clear it out?”

He beams, because he’s got this  _down_. She ushers him inside and he immediately sets on opening up the windows. It lets the cold winter air inside, not helped along when he turns on a ceiling fan, but she turns the oven off in her kitchen and he feels better that at least the situation is safer.

“Too little flour?”

“Shut up,” she mutters, and the tips of her ears go red. It belatedly occurs to him that she might be embarrassed, which is dumb. Plenty of cooking doesn’t go as planned. But he takes another look at her kitchen and – wow. Okay, wow, it’s a disaster.

Percy knows his mother is the best cook in the world. That’s a fact. But he’s not half bad; he is her son, after all. And he is looking at the kitchen of someone who has probably never cooked a day in her life. “What are you trying to  _make?_ ”

She scowls at him, tossing the oven mitt at his face. “Everything,” she grits out as she fans at more of the haze.

He has the foresight to not bring up how alone she is in her apartment; his visit has only proven that theory of solitude true. So he offers a light, casual, “Company for Christmas?”

“My dad,” she admits after a long pause. “And his wife, and my brothers.”

“And let me guess, you’ve never so much as even made a pie before in your life?”

She looks relieved he didn’t ask about her family, even as she scowls. “You’re lucky I don’t have another mitt to throw at you.”

Percy holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Instead of throwing it at me, you could let me use it.”

She stares at him. “What.”

Belatedly, he realizes what he’s just offered, and he can feel his neck getting a little warm. “Uh. If you needed help. Cooking, I mean. My mom’s pretty much the best cook in the world, she’s doing all the holiday food, so I’ve got tons of free time today. If you – want it.”

He almost says  _need it_ , but in this very brief interaction, he’s getting the impression this girl wouldn’t take well to his assuming what she needs.

She regards him carefully, suspiciously, arms crossed like she’s strategizing for battle, before she finally gives him a quick nod, so fast he barely even registers it. “Annabeth.”

“What?”

“My name. I’m Annabeth. It’s Percy, right?”

He beams at her. “Yeah! We should probably, uh, clean up some of the mess first, and wait for more of the smoke to clear out. Depending on what it was, it’ll just burn all over again.”

She squints at him. “Do you know how to make cookies?”

He blinks. “Sure. Not all cookies, but your basic chocolate chip is easy enough.”

Annabeth snatches the oven mitts and pulls out a tray of – well Percy assumes they were meant to be cookies, but right now it just looks like a charred block from the void.  She glances at it rather despondently, like her entire life is reaching a tipping point of failure because the cookies ate themselves into a crisp. “My dad likes chocolate chip. I figured if I could at least have cookies, it wouldn’t be a total loss.”

He can’t help it. Percy rolls up his sleeves and starts gathering up what ingredients she’s already got out across the countertops. He smiles brightly at her, and it makes his heart skip a beat when she smiles back, even if she’s shaking her head at him at the same time. “Watch and learn, Annabeth.”

The smoke takes a very long time to clear out, longer than it takes Percy to scrape the inside of the oven clean. His fingers go a little numb from the cold breeze, but he’s lived in the city his whole life and is pretty used to chilly temperatures when the room needs to be aired out for winter feasts. Even master chefs like his mother suffer the Burning Plague from time to time.

“What else, besides cookies?” he asks as he puts the fresh batch into the oven, this time with hopefully less fire hazard results.

Annabeth doesn’t answer him at first, pursing her lips as she moves around the kitchen cleaning up. She’d tried to help, but got too frustrated at him when he went off recipe, and Percy learnt just how meticulous she prefers to be. “I told you,” she says finally, her back to him. “I wanted to make everything. But there’s a diner down the street. We’ll probably go there instead.”

Her voice is stiff, like she’s preparing herself to be judged, but Percy just grins. “Oh man, Lito’s right? My mom and I went there a couple years ago, when she accidentally burnt the turkey on thanksgiving. It’s pretty great.”

She glances at him, mollified by his response but still unimpressed. “Yeah, I don’t think my stepmom will agree.”

“Then your stepmom has clearly not had Lito’s,” he says sagely, but they get back to cooking soon after. She opts for lasagna instead of a giant ham or turkey, and it’s messier to put together, but Percy insists it’ll be easier for her to handle tomorrow, especially since he won’t be around to whip out the fire extinguisher.

“You didn’t even use it today!” Annabeth huffs as she passes him a cup of hot chocolate. She’s a terrible cook, but hot drinks are apparently her specialty, if her cabinet of tea, coffee, and cocoa mixers is anything to go by.

He settles on the couch with the cup, grinning to the dulcet tones of Frosty the Snowman on the TV in the background as she curls up on the other side. If she has any issues with taking a break, she probably wouldn’t have made him cocoa. “Because I beat the fire before it started. I’m just that good. You’re lucky we’re neighbors.”

She grins at him, but it’s a softer smile, and he can feel his ears going red, because she isn’t just cute – she’s beautiful, even with her curly hair in a mess of a bun and splats of food all over her clothes (not that he thinks he looks any better). “Don’t be stupid. Pretty sure helping me prevent a family disaster makes you my  _friend_  at this point.”

Percy’s own smile goes wide, and it takes all his self control not to text Grover immediately with this new development. It helps when he remembers he forgot his phone back in his own apartment anyway.  “Then I should warn you, friends drag friends into snowball fights.”

Annabeth beams, and it feels like Christmas came early. “Looking forward to it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt/au: “YOU DON’T LIKE MARSHMALLOWS IN YOUR HOT CHOCOLATE? WHY DO YOU HATE LOVE”

“Hold on. What?  _What?_ ”

“No marshmallows?” Annabeth doesn’t understand how her asking the barista for no marshmallows warrants such a dramatic reaction, hence the question. She isn’t going back on her specifics.

“It’s hot chocolate!”

“I’m aware,” she says dryly, offering the barista an apologetic look.

Percy just gestures with his hands, like he can get her to understand the big deal. Usually she’s pretty good at deciphering him, but right now she wants him to squirm so she doesn’t bother trying. The barista tentatively gives out the total, and Annabeth pays for both their cocoas while she waits for Percy to regain his articulation.

“How could you not get marshmallows?” He sounds almost heartbroken. It’s kind of cute.

“You’re lucky I got whipped cream,” she replies idly, very near to a smirk.

“Whipped cream is acceptable to pass on,” Percy says, like he’s a connoisseur. “It melts too fast to really enjoy it most of the time.”

“And marshmallows don’t?”

“You eat them before they do, obviously.”

Annabeth shakes her head at him while the barista slides over two hot chocolates, one of which has a doodle of a sad marshmallow on it alongside her name, and Percy lets out a short, victorious laugh. “See! She agrees.”

“Maybe she just likes to draw marshmallows.”

“Both,” the barista idly chimes in, like their little exchange has just made her entire afternoon. “Happy Holidays!”

“You too!” Percy beams, because the entire season generally has him in a great mood, and he can’t resist season’s greetings. They walk away from the counter with their steaming mugs, too hot to taste without burning their mouths, though Percy certainly looks like he’s willing to risk it. Then he sticks his tongue out at her instead to follow up his barista alliance, and like the mature girlfriend she is, she sticks hers out right back.

“You think I’m joking,” he starts, sliding into a seat near the window, where twinkling lights hang across it and over the table, “but this might be a dealbreaker.”

“I don’t think anything except how ridiculous you’re being about this,” she replies. They’ve been to Tartarus and back. She’s never seen him so pressed about anything so silly in a while but – maybe that’s a good thing too. Half her whipped cream has melted by now and she takes a small sip of her drink, burning the top of her lip.

Percy, meanwhile, scoops out a marshmallow with his spoon and eats it with a flourish. “Look what you’re missing, Annabeth. Look at it.”

“I can’t. You ate it.”

He scoops out another one and waves it in front of her face. “Last chance.”

“You really know how to tempt a girl,” she says lightly, swirling the cocoa in her mug around. Then she slowly raises her own drink to her lips instead of accepting his offer and takes a slow sip, free of puffy white sugar (the whipped cream is gone).

Percy lets out a melodramatic sigh and shoves the marshmallow into his own mouth, making a show of chewing it. He probably keeps up miming it out of spite, because there’s no way something that small would take him of all people that little time to swallow.

“Your loss,” he days mournfully, scooping up three more at once. They’re shrinking faster and faster, so he’s probably racing himself just to prove he can eat them all before they’re gone.

“You should have just ordered a cup of marshmallows, if you wanted to eat them that badly,” she says.

“There is a balance you don’t understand. These are dark times.” As if to amuse her, another set of Christmas lights flickers on over their heads, illuminating both their faces against his statement of darkness. “That doesn’t count. Why do we even have lights in the first place? Because it gets  _dark_.”

“I think it’s because you’d be hard pressed to find anywhere in New York City that doesn’t give birth to Christmas lights as soon as the Thanksgiving Parade finishes.”

He scoops up the last of his marshmallows with faux aggression, ignoring the fact that the chocolate finally melted the rest of his supply. “Tell me this: have you  _ever_  even had marshmallows in your cocoa?”

She shrugs. “A few times. Apparently I just haven’t found the right combination you’re so insistent on.”

“Every combination is the right combination, Annabeth,” he nods solemnly, settling down his mug and leaving a chocolate moustache on his upper lip.

“You should probably take a look in the mirror before giving your final closing statements if you’re really trying to make a point.”

He looks at his reflection in the window, but just laughs. Instead of wiping it away he comes around and tries to plant a messy kiss on her cheek. Her shriek is more of a laugh, but he manages to smear chocolate all over her anyway. She elbows him. “If I had marshmallows, I wouldn’t even eat them. I’d throw them at you.”

“Declaring marshmallow war?” he beams.

“Pretty sure you did that first.”

He gets her a bag of marshmallows for Christmas, and in retrospect, she probably should have expected that. She can deal with it though, if only because the marshmallows are blue, and she’s already planning the best way to escalate the next battle.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr prompt: “there’s a storm and omg i’m losing signal are you okay?? hold on let me drive 489432 miles to get you the night before christmas” with "PULLING YOU IN FOR A KISS WITH A SCARF"

“Percy, we live in New York. It’s December. I don’t know why you’re making this a big deal.”

He huffs on the other end of the iris message, and she tries not to laugh at how indignant he looks. “Because it’s _Christmas Eve_ , and you’re supposed to be here, at my house, with my mom and dad.”

“The storm’s gonna be finished overnight. I’ll just come tomorrow morning, okay?”

He moves on from indignant to sulking, and the picture from the rainbow flickers. Annabeth’s used to interference from both iris messaging and regular phones alike, and she’s honestly surprised the message has held on this long with the weather.

“I could just come get you,” he offers, trying to sound casual.

“Percy Jackson, don’t you dare,” Annabeth warns. “You’re not driving across the whole Island! I told you there was an emergency at Camp, these things happen.”

The image flickers again, cutting off his words, and she scrambles around for another drachma to extend the message further. Instead she just hears: “I’ll be there – couple hours –” and it cuts out fully.

Annabeth stares at the empty space then scowls, scrambling around for her illegal cell phone. She dials the Jackson-Blowfis house, but her signal is weak, both from being at camp and from the snowstorm whirling outside. “Goddamnit, Percy,” she snaps, hoping it somehow travels and he hears it.

She spends the next hour complaining at anyone who will listen and people who don’t. Piper just tells her she really should have expected this, that she shouldn’t have come back in the first place; Jason frets with her, but remains unsurprised, should Percy really be on the way.

In hour two, she trains in the snow. Inside the Camp isn’t as bad as outside, but they’ve allowed some of the snow to get in, and Annabeth stomps around, scaring some of the newbies more than Clarisse. Hour three has her rearranging her entire cabin, and hour four is over the usual time it takes to get from the city to Camp which puts her into overdrive. Chiron comes out and tries to calm her down; it’s only mildly successful. Percy is exactly the type of person who would borrow his mother’s car and drive out for her, because it’s hardly even the most dangerous thing he’s ever done for her. Doesn’t mean she has to like it though.

After about four and a half hours, she spots Percy at last, jogging down the hill. Annabeth feels all the worry and anger well up like a volcano, and she storms towards him, harsher than the snow. He stiffens on her approach, but he’s smiling anyway, like the entire dangerous trek was nothing at all for her sake.

“You’re an _idiot!_ Why didn’t you listen to me?”

Percy holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “It wasn’t just my idea! Mom and Paul are waiting in the car.”

“What? Why?” her voice goes a little shrill, because – because Percy putting himself in danger is one thing, but Sally and Paul too? They’re a trio of idiots. “I told you I’d be back first thing!”

Percy rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not so bad. Really! It wasn’t! The plows are out, they know everyone’s gonna be traveling.”

“That’s not an excuse!” She’d been out of her mind with worry, unable to contact him, unable to know where he was, if he was okay. He’s a born and bred New Yorker who’s been dealing with this kind of snow his entire life, but it doesn’t make it any less reckless and stupid to drive down the entire LIE in the snow, with every intention of going back the same way.

“Annabeth, look. We just – we didn’t want to be without you for Christmas, okay? Any part of Christmas. Like, obviously we would’ve waited for you before presents tomorrow. But there’s the hot chocolate, the Christmas movies – we all wanted you there. It’s not a big deal.”

Except it is a big deal. It is absolutely a big deal, and Annabeth can feel herself getting a little overwhelmed. She loves Percy, and Sally and Paul, she loves them so much; they’re her family, have been for a while, but the fact that they didn’t want to spend Christmas without her – it’s almost too much to handle.

Percy’s looking at her nervously, and she’s _mad_ that he drove here, but she’s also thinking about how much this family took her in as one of their own, and she just – she just –

Annabeth grabs his scarf and yanks him towards her. He stumbles a little and makes a surprised noise, but she pulls him in close and kisses him. It takes him a moment to respond, but he smiles into the kiss and rests his hands at her waist. It’s not enough, and she wants to keep kissing him, but they’re outside, his mom is waiting, and they probably have an audience. It doesn’t stop her from drowning him in a little extra affection anyway.

“I love you,” she says when she finally breaks away, keeping her forehead against his. “You’re an idiot, and I can’t believe your mom agreed to come out here too, but I love you.”

“I love you too, Annabeth. Duh.”

“I’m still mad at you,” she huffs, still holding on to his scarf and winding it around her wrist.

He beams goofily, and she can’t believe how gone she is for this boy. “I wouldn’t expect anything else. Now, come on, get your stuff. We’ve got a snowstorm to battle.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr/prompt: “i did that annoying thing where i put loads of smaller boxes inside one big box and you’re getting really mad but you don’t know that the ring is in the smallest box and i can’t wait to see your face” for percabeth.

Percy Jackson is already married. It happened a few weeks ago, he and Annabeth spontaneously decided to go to the courthouse and make it official. He didn’t even propose; it was Annabeth’s suggestion, and Percy was more than happy to comply but, like, they didn’t do much else that day. He doesn’t regret it, because his life with Annabeth was always going to be forever, and he hates wearing a suit. The only thing he missed out on was the rings. He hates jewelry most of the time, always loses any bracelets (like the friendship bracelet Grover made for him a couple years ago, worst day of his life). But the sappy, sentimental part of him wishes he could have slid a proper ring on her finger.

So, naturally, he buys one a couple days later. Instead of giving it to her, he hoards it. Percy is the worst at planning, but it feels weird to just drop it on her.

Around Christmas time while he’s wrapping up her other presents, he puts the ring in a box. Then he laughs to himself and sticks it in another box, because why not? And like most things in his life, it spirals out of control as the impulse overtakes him and the tiny ring in the tiny box ends up in several boxes, the largest of which is about three feet long, and in this moment, Percy feels like a champion. This is the greatest idea he’s ever had, and Annabeth is going to kill him.

Christmas morning arrives and Annabeth eyes the box suspiciously. “What is this?”

“Uh, did you forget what the point of wrapping paper is? You’re supposed to open it.”

So she begins. Annabeth rolls her eyes when she gets to the second box, and lets out a sigh when she gets to the third. “Really, Percy? Really?”

He just looks at her smugly as she tears open the third box. He’ll have to count how many there are when she’s done, because he sort of lost track during the wrapping process. She gets to the fifth and throws the empty box at his face.

“You’re such an asshole,” she grunts.

“Love you too!” he beams.

“This is literally the most annoying Christmas cliché in the world. Of course you’d do it. Lemme guess, there’s a _ring_ inside?” she mocks. He has never felt so pleased with himself in his life, because they’re already married. She isn’t expecting a ring in the last box.

The boxes get smaller, and Percy counts eight. He didn’t even know they had eight boxes, but it does validate Annabeth’s complaints about a lack of boxes to use when she was doing her own wrapping.

By the time she gets to what he knows is the final box, Annabeth looks infuriated. Her eyebrows are wrinkled, her lips are curled fiercely downward, and her eyes are murderous. It’s a good look, and people have warned him he might be some kind of masochist.

She opens the box though, and all of that disappears as her mouth opens into an ‘o’ of surprise. She pulls the ring out of the box and holds it up, confused. “You do know we’re already married, right? Did you discover another level for us to take?”

And then he suddenly feels shy. He fidgets a little and takes the ring from her, sliding it on her finger. “We did it backwards but, uh. I still wanted to get you a ring.”

Annabeth’s face softens, staring down at her finger. She goes very quiet, and Percy fears for a few long moments that he’s actually done something wrong. But – it’s not flashy. He knows Annabeth goes for practicality, so the band is narrow, and it’s silver without any gaudy gems. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an exact match, dropping it into her hand. “In case you wanted to do it too,” he says, voice low and nervous.

She grabs his hand quite suddenly, but her hands are gentle as she slides the matching ring onto his finger. He looks at her face to find her cheeks red, and it’s the most amazing look he’s seen on her face all day, because after everything, he can still make her blush.

“So, uh, not a bad idea?”

“The boxes were the stupidest thing you’ve ever put me through, and that’s saying a lot,” she huffs out, but he just smiles. Better to let her get this part out of the way. He knows it’s easier for her to lash out first.

She leans forward and presses her forehead to his, and he takes her hand, running his thumb over her palm. Percy doesn’t have a lot of patience for most things, but he’ll always wait for Annabeth. Finally, she speaks up. “If you wanted rings, you could have said so.”

He kisses her, once. “We didn’t, before. I just wanted to give you one eventually, you know? We don’t have to do everything in the right order.”

She laughs. “Easy for you to say.”

“Well, I mean, I _guess_ we could get divorced and remarried, only if you really want to. But lawyers are probably out of our budget.”

Annabeth smacks his arm, but then she kisses him too. “Shut up. Don’t ruin this,” she says, chastising him even as she leans in for another kiss – and another, and another. She tangles her hands in his hair, and he can feel the ring against his scalp; it makes him smile stupidly. “We probably should have done this part sooner, huh?”

“Honestly, Annabeth, the most important part of us has always just been us. I could take or leave the rings but, well, I gotta say, I picked out some good ones.”

She laughs, then throws her arms around him hard enough that she knocks him over to the floor. He holds her to him tightly and kisses her hair. “Merry Christmas, Annabeth. I’d ask you to marry me, but I already know the answer.”

“Always yes, Percy. Always yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> each chapter will (likely) be a standalone from whatever holiday themed prompts get filled on tumblr!


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